It’s me, a door

It’s me, a door

the door

Hi. It’s me. A door.

I don’t have a name. I feel like being a door is enough.

When I meet someone and they tell me their name, I nod quietly. They’ll often ask my name. I say, “It’s door.”

Sometimes they’ll say, “Dohr?”

I’ll say, “No, door.”

I’m not trying to make a point. For me it sums it all up. I open. I close. I keep out the elements and unwanted guests.

I used to be a tree. Back then when someone asked my name, I said, “tree.” Sometimes they’d say, “Trey?”

I’d say, “No, tree.”

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